


you define my everything

by perfect_shotgun



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Drama, Established Relationship, F/F, Post-Canon, Translation from Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 12:31:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15267552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfect_shotgun/pseuds/perfect_shotgun
Summary: Claire visits Moira in a hospital





	you define my everything

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [you define my everything](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13503813) by [perfect_shotgun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfect_shotgun/pseuds/perfect_shotgun). 



"Do you remember the island, Claire?", Moira asks once.  
Claire comes to see her every week, more or less. She brings flowers — beautiful white ones, with long petals; Moira can't remember their name. Memory fails her too often these days.  
"You went through a lot," Moira says, strokes her hand, and squeezes softly. "It's probably just one of many creepy stories for you, right? Do you tell them to our children? Of course not. Children don't need to know such things. Even if they want to."  
Claire looks at her silently. She is always like this, but Moira doesn't judge her, doesn't even notice the silence; Claire's presence is enough for her, and the strong hand in her grip as well. Claire's hands are callous from wielding weapons, there is a wedding band on her ring-finger, and Moira always smiles when she touches it — so many memories, so many happy days  
are gone forever.  
Moira knows that she's getting worse.  
"But I remember," she mutters and then swallows forcefully: her throat suddenly feels so tightened, like she's going to cry. "I still remember, can you believe it? I forgot so much, but this... I knew that I'd fallen in love with you then, you know. Have I told you? I probably have."  
She lowers her head and kisses Claire's fingers, and Claire inhales sharply, nearly pained.  
"What's wrong, my dear?"  
Moira sits up with effort and looks at her, anxious and surprised. Claire's lips are moving, but Moira can't hear a sound, and then  
Claire takes her hand away, gently but quickly, and almost comes running out of room.  
She's crying, Moira thinks.

 

Bewilderment and sorrow are scorching her from the inside. How did she offend Claire? Why did Claire run away? Moira feels hurt in a distinct way that someone who hurt their close ones would feel; she's crying silently, clenching her fists on a blanket, and looking out of the window. It's raining outside, and the weather only makes things worse; if not for this, she could've gone for a walk. Fresh air could've helped her, but not today, not in such weather.  
Lilies on her nightstand have a sweet and rich odor.  
That's it, Moira thinks. The lilies. Claire bought me these for... for... here we go again. Was it our first date? Was it our anniversary? Why can't I remember anything? Why does Claire come here so seldom? Why is her wedding ring on the finger and mine on the neck?  
The door opens again, and a girl comes in — young and completely unfamiliar, dressed in white; Moira blinks, surpised, and looks at her with eyes red from crying.  
"Time for your medicine, Mrs. Burton... oh, what happened?", the girl asks in a high-pitched, worried voice. "Why are you crying? I saw Mrs. Redfield in the coridor, and..."  
Missis. Redfield.  
Oh.  
"That wasn't Claire, right?", Moira asks, fully aware that the question sounds stupid. "Again, I..."  
"No, Mrs. Burton," girl comes closer and touches her shoulder gently. "This was not your wife. I'm sorry. Please don't cry. Let me dry your tears... just like that... and help you sit up."  
Moira doesn't listen. She's getting worse.  
Claire Burton (née Redfield) was buried two years ago.


End file.
